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He lurked along the pathway, just biding his time. He knew, just knew, that he would be able to take a victim this evening. He scoffed softly to himself. They were all the same, these women. They believed that they were safe in their long coats, scrapped back hair, and no make-up. They were so willing to believe that it wouldn’t happen to them because of their outward appearance. How simple were they to think like that. The choosing of a rape victim had nothing to do with looks. Just opportunity and the urge to reinforce the rapist own feeling of dominance.
A woman approached him on the path. She smiled at him, confidence in his uniform affording her false security. As soon as she stepped past him he grabbed her. One hard clamped across her mouth, the other around her throat and dragged her terrified body into the shrubs.
As he brutalised her he watched the fear in her eyes as silent tears fell into the moulding leaves and branches. When he had finished with the woman he stood over her and repeatedly hit her around the head. Two thoughts only chased themselves around and around, “See mum, I’m not useless” and “Don’t look at me like that mum!”. Only when she was dead did he stop.
As he walked away he knew that when the dead woman was found no mention of the beating would be printed in the papers. He would read about it in the incident report along with his work colleagues. No one knew he had first hand knowledge. He stepped back onto the path and whistled tunelessly to himself as he wiped his truncheon.
A woman approached him on the path. She smiled at him, confidence in his uniform affording her false security. As soon as she stepped past him he grabbed her. One hard clamped across her mouth, the other around her throat and dragged her terrified body into the shrubs.
As he brutalised her he watched the fear in her eyes as silent tears fell into the moulding leaves and branches. When he had finished with the woman he stood over her and repeatedly hit her around the head. Two thoughts only chased themselves around and around, “See mum, I’m not useless” and “Don’t look at me like that mum!”. Only when she was dead did he stop.
As he walked away he knew that when the dead woman was found no mention of the beating would be printed in the papers. He would read about it in the incident report along with his work colleagues. No one knew he had first hand knowledge. He stepped back onto the path and whistled tunelessly to himself as he wiped his truncheon.
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He lurked along the pathway, just biding his time. He knew, just knew, that he would be able to take a victim this evening. He scoffed softly to himself. They were all the same, these women. They believed that they were safe in their long coats, scrapped back hair, and no make-up. They were so willing to believe that it wouldn’t happen to them because of their outward appearance. How simple were they to think like that. The choosing of a rape victim had nothing to do with looks. Just opportunity and the urge to reinforce the rapist own feeling of dominance.
A woman approached him on the path. She smiled at him, confidence in his uniform affording her false security. As soon as she stepped past him he grabbed her. One hard clamped across her mouth, the other around her throat and dragged her terrified body into the shrubs.
As he brutalised her he watched the fear in her eyes as silent tears fell into the moulding leaves and branches. When he had finished with the woman he stood over her and repeatedly hit her around the head. Two thoughts only chased themselves around and around, “See mum, I’m not useless” and “Don’t look at me like that mum!”. Only when she was dead did he stop.
As he walked away he knew that when the dead woman was found no mention of the beating would be printed in the papers. He would read about it in the incident report along with his work colleagues. No one knew he had first hand knowledge. He stepped back onto the path and whistled tunelessly to himself as he wiped his truncheon.
A woman approached him on the path. She smiled at him, confidence in his uniform affording her false security. As soon as she stepped past him he grabbed her. One hard clamped across her mouth, the other around her throat and dragged her terrified body into the shrubs.
As he brutalised her he watched the fear in her eyes as silent tears fell into the moulding leaves and branches. When he had finished with the woman he stood over her and repeatedly hit her around the head. Two thoughts only chased themselves around and around, “See mum, I’m not useless” and “Don’t look at me like that mum!”. Only when she was dead did he stop.
As he walked away he knew that when the dead woman was found no mention of the beating would be printed in the papers. He would read about it in the incident report along with his work colleagues. No one knew he had first hand knowledge. He stepped back onto the path and whistled tunelessly to himself as he wiped his truncheon.
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